


You Know You're Just My Type

by sonofabeesting



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofabeesting/pseuds/sonofabeesting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke and Lexa begin their movie night platonically, but it ends up a little differently than either anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know You're Just My Type

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Clexa fic ever, thanks for reading! The title is from the song "My Type" by Saint Motel.

“Lexa, come on!” Clarke pleaded, turning her baby blues on me, “engage in this discussion! Would you not agree that _Endless Love_ is just a slightly classier version of _The Longest Ride_?”

“I suppose so,” I answered, digging my hand into the popcorn bowl, “they’re both just shitty versions of a tired ‘wrong side of the tracks’ trope.” This is how it went every week. Clarke came to my house, we watched the newest romance movie on demand, and we ‘discussed’ the pros and cons of each one, which was basically just Clarke rating how hot everyone was. So far, her favorite was _The Notebook_. She really liked Rachel McAdams.

“You know what would make those movies both ten times better?” Clarke asked. “What?” “If the guys were girls instead.” Clarke said, casually tearing apart a cherry Twizzler and flipping the channel back to _SVU_. I froze. “Why’s that?” I asked, trying to keep up the casual tone, despite my insides doing somersaults. This happened every time Clarke brought up girls liking girls, because I, a girl, liked Clarke, also a girl, a lot. Like, since-seventh-grade-and-now-we’re-about-to-graduate-high-school a lot. It started off as a pretty simple crush, with the basic butterflies and blushing, but ever since she came out as bisexual to me last year, my feelings have been a lot more intense and significantly less...innocent.

“Well, for starters they wouldn’t be so angsty,” Clarke started, “all of the guys in these movies are so chiseled and good-looking that their stubbornness and general anger is honestly boring.” I nodded, listening intently. “Then, girls are just so much better. Finn proved that much to be true, at least to me.” Clarke said this with such nonchalance that I wondered if Clarke had moved on to someone else. _Maybe a girl? She said girls are better_ , I thought, but I remained silent. “And finally, it would be something new.” When Clarke said this, she looked up and her eyes met mine. After a beat too long to be considered just friendly, I broke the eye contact.

“I guess you’re right,” I said, “I certainly would like to see some more girls kissing girls, to make up for the action I’m not getting.” Clarke laughed, but I thought it sounded a little forced.

“Yeah, well who are you into? I’m sure I could get you some of that action you seem to want so badly.” Again, I froze. _Does she know? How could she! I’ve been so cautious and careful and -_

“Lexa! Earth to Lexa! Come on tell me! I know you were just thinking of someone!” Clarke said, laughing.

“Oh, um, well,” I blushed, “I mean I don’t really know I guess I’m just not really into anyone.”

“Bullshit! You’re totally blushing!”

“No, I’m not!” I was, “It’s just hot right now!” It wasn’t, we were in my basement, it was freezing.

“Lexa, you’re gonna have to tell me sooner or later. I’m your best friend! Come on, you know you can tell me anything.” Clarke had put her head on my shoulder while she was begging, and I’m shocked she didn’t comment on my aggressive heartbeat.

“Clarke, I don’t know about that.”

“Is it Octavia?”

“No way, she’s not my type and Lincoln would kill me.” I said, taking off my sweatshirt because despite the freezing basement, I had gotten very, very hot.

“Raven?”

“She’s with Wick! Again, also not my type.”

"Fine then, if you won’t tell me who you like, tell me your type.” Clarke said, laying back on the couch with her arms crossed.

“Come on, Clarke, I don’t want to talk about this.” I said half-heartedly, knowing I was fighting a losing battle.

“Too late, you have to do it or I’m leaving.” An empty threat, I knew this, but I sighed deeply and sat up a little bit straighter.

“Fine. Obviously a girl. Really easy to talk to, kind, creative, friendly, like a take charge kind of person. Someone who is willing to call me on my shit and makes me better,” I started, figuring that if I went with vague and broad statements Clarke might not catch on.

“What about physically? Raven and Octavia always take charge but you claimed they’re not your type.” Clarke asked, scooting closer to me. _Shit._

“Um, I mean, um, maybe like my height, I guess like lighter hair and skin than mine, not super skinny…” I trailed off, pretending to get distracted by my cuticles.

“What else?” Clarke asked, her voice suddenly a lot quieter. I looked up and her face was maybe three inches from my own. _Shit shit shit_. I was looking right into her eyes when I realized I had to answer her question.

“Blue eyes,” I said, my throat suddenly going dry and my voice seemingly not there anymore. Clarke’s eyes flicked down to my lips, and before I knew what was happening, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine.

A few things went through my mind, the first of them being how deeply I was in love with Clarke, the second being how soft her lips were, and the third being that I needed more.

I pushed back against her, and opened my mouth against hers. Her response was immediate, pushing me back against the couch and straddling me, her hands roaming my sides as her tongue found its way into my mouth. I grabbed on to her hips, looking for anything solid to remind myself that this was not a dream, because I’ve had a lot of these kind of dreams, but the open-mouthed kisses Clarke had started to trail along my neck and down my collarbone while she pulled up my t-shirt were more than enough reassurance. I lifted my hands from her waist to her breasts, which felt significantly better than anything my subconscious could have ever come up with. She took a break from my neck, and her fingers made quick work of my bra, and she took off her sweatshirt to reveal she didn’t have a thing on under it. _Oh my god_ , I thought, and apparently said out loud, because I heard Clarke giggle and cup my face in her hands. I pressed our foreheads together,

“If you didn’t catch on yet, I like you, you’re my type,” I whispered, averting eye contact and blushing the whole way through.

“I really hoped that was the case, because you're my type too,” Clarke said, stroking my hair and tucking it behind my ear. Her voice was husky and slightly breathless, so it took me a second to process what she had said. 

“What? You like me too? Like for real? Not just heat of the moment like?”

“Remember in the eighth grade when Murphy knocked all my books out of my hand on our way to Spanish and you tripped him while he was walking away?”

“Sure, why?”

“I have liked you more than anything ever since that day,” Clarke confessed, now her turn to blush, "I didn't know if you liked me back, so that's why I dated Finn and all, to try to get over you, but obviously it didn't work," she said, gesturing to her position in my lap. I could feel my heart lifting up and beating faster than it ever has.

“Well, I’ve liked you ever since you sat next to me at lunch in the seventh grade,” I said.

“Lexa, that was the first day we met.” She said with a look of awe in her eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” I said, this time not breaking eye contact. She tilted her head down and kissed me again. This kiss wasn’t as urgent, more like we were getting to know each other’s styles and quirks, like Clarke’s love of nipping, which was the hottest thing I had ever experienced.

A ringtone interrupted our make out, Clarke’s phone ringing with a call from her mom.

“Hey mom, yeah I’m still at Lexa’s, could I spend the night?” She said, asking me and her mom.

I nodded my head, mouthing, “Absolutely,” and Clarke smiled.

“Awesome mom, thanks!” She hung up, put her phone on silent, and tossed it to the other side of the couch. “So,” she asked, smirking, “are we going to continue here or in the bedroom?”


End file.
